Fall of the Great
by Toris-96
Summary: AU- Due to the danger of their kingdom's enemies, princes Aleksander and Eiríkur are forced to split up and go into hiding among the peasants. While Eiríkur is paired up with a nice couple, Aleksander is forced to deal with an obnoxious, yet light-hearted traveler. (Casual SuFin)(Rated T for violence and language.)
1. Prologue: Down With The King

Eiríkur stumbled and fell forward on the rug. Panting, he looked up at his father's golden throne as the throne room's doors behind him slammed.

"I'm sorry." He heard his father say behind him, "I didn't mean to throw you like that." The apology was quick, but it was sincere. Eiríkur could understand the haste that his father was taking. Afterall, they were currently under attack.

Perhaps what Eiríkur didn't understand was _why_ they were under attack. His father was a fair and gentle ruler, as far as he knew, the citizens were happy. But, just as his teacher said in his lessons, you can never please everyone.

"Come on," His father said, breaking his thoughts, "Get up." After being helped to his feet, his father grabbed him by the shoulders and scanned him with his eyes, "Are you hurt?"

Never in his thirteen-year-old life had Eiríkur been scared speechless.

"Eiríkur, answer me!"

He shook his head, "No," He said quickly, "Where are Aleksander and Mother?"

His father closed his eyes briefly, "I don't-"

Before his father could finish his sentence, the doors flew open. His father drew his sword and spun around, protecting him. But, instead of attacking, he relaxed, "Arthur."

Arthur was the royal bodyguard, the youngest one in history aging only twenty-one, just two years older than Aleksander. Eiríkur was relieved to see him, and not only for protection. He had known the bodyguard his whole life. His earliest memory was when they were kids, when he, his brother, and Arthur would play pretend… Arthur was like a second brother, and considered family by the King and Queen.

"Please tell me you have news of my wife and other son." Eiríkur's father continued.

Excalibur, Arthur's raven, flew in just before Arthur closed the doors with a grunt. He leaned against the door for a short moment before limping over, "I do not have news or her Majesty or Heir Aleksander," Excalibur perched herself on Arthur's shoulder as the young man stopped a few feet away from Eiríkur's father, "But, I do have good news."

His father shook his head as he lowered his sword, "If it isn't about my family, then I don't really care."

"The Runners are here." Arthur said, giving the news anyway.

Eiríkur felt even more relieved. The Runners established themselves to protect the throne from treason, weather it was taking out threats to the kingdom's leader, or assassinating tyrants, like they had done to Eiríkur's grandfather. But, since his father was such a just king, this was great news. But his father didn't seem to share Eiríkur's feelings.

"Well, it's about time!" His father practically yelled, "I thought their job was to prevent all this!"

"Sir-"

The king interrupted, "You know, I would like to speak to Francis after this! My wife and son may be dead and where was he?"

"Excuse me," Arthur began to retort, "May I remind you of your power? You are not allowed to speak directly to The Runners, _I_ am the only Royal Representative that can do that." Arthur's voice raised as he went on, his anger and stress growing "And second, this is not his, or his men's fault. Some things are out of everyone's control. Francis is one of the greatest leaders of The Runners in history, right next to his own mother, don't you think that if he saw this coming, he would have tried to stop it before it got to the bloody castle?"

"You're my bodyguard, not my advisor!" His father snapped. Arthur looked like he was going to argue more, but they were both interrupted by yelling outside the room. His father took out a dagger and turned to Eiríkur, "Hide, son." He said, handing it to him.

Eiríkur took the dagger, but he didn't hide, "I have been taught how to fight, Father."

His father didn't exactly argue, but he didn't listen to him either, "Do as I say _right now._ "

The anxious, almost scared tone in his father's voice frightened Eiríkur even more. Not only were they in danger, but the biggest, strongest, most indestructible man that Eiríkur knew was _scared_. It made Eiríkur feel childish to be scared when his parent was, but it seemed like the most natural response.

His father must have seen him shaking, because after a short pause, he sighed, bent his head down and kissed him on the top of the head, "I am so proud of you and your brother. I love you both so much."

Although, meant to be comforting, it didn't help. What his father said sounded like his last words.

Eiríkur didn't have time to ponder it. With the yelling getting louder on the other side of the door, his father pushed him towards the corner of the room. There sat a solid stone table with a long, floor-length table cloth. He ran over to it, and hid under it. He didn't even have time the breathe before the door burst open.

He peeked out from under the table cloth just in time to see Excalibur fly up in the air, into the shadows of the rafters. Arthur had already drawn his sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, slicing through enemies as they came. The bodyguard dodged, ducked, and spun out of the way of attacks, using his agility to his advantage. His father, on the other hand, wasn't a good dodger, but was a good blocker. Using a heavier sword than Arthur and most of the attackers, his father blocked every attack until there was an opening to hack into them. They were a good team, and even though they didn't seem to need the help, Excalibur flew down and attacked someone's face, plucking their eyes out.

Eiríkur had never seen so much blood in his life, but he couldn't stop watching.

That's when Arthur got his attention. The young man was now facing a speed fighter, a skilled one at that. The other man had Arthur backing up, blocking, and dodging more than attacking, which wasn't good. From across the room, Eiríkur could hear Arthur begin to pant, and the leg that was causing his lip seemed to be bothering him even more. Eiríkur had learned about different fighting strategies, and each had their strengths and weaknesses. Agility fighters, like Arthur, are hard to keep up with and aren't easily defeated because they change direction so much, but they have poor endurance, and tire out quickly. They have to keep the fight short.

 _Get a hold of him,_ Eiríkur thought, _Speed fighters are hard to block, but if you get a hold of him, he can't defend himself._

Arthur's agility got the advantage. It seemed like the bodyguard was at the perfect angle, and in a quick turn of his wrist, he disarmed the enemy, who went to run. Arthur reached out and grabbed the man by the back of his collar. But, before Arthur could thrust his sword into his back, the man took the Royal Staff off of the wall next to him, spun around, and hit him in the head.

Eiríkur's jaw dropped when he heard the loud thud that came from the collision. Arthur's body fell to the ground motionless.

 _Get up,_ Eiríkur almost yelled out loud, _Please, Arthur, get up._

He didn't, but that didn't mean that his father would be fighting alone, not if Eiríkur had anything to say about it. But, before Eiríkur could get out from under the table, he heard a pain-filled cry. He looked over to see a man pull a sword out of his father's chest and his father fall. Eiríkur covered his mouth to prevent himself from screaming as tears rolled down his cheeks.

" _NO!_ "

At that time, three men ran into the room. The first, a long blond, jumped forward, thrusted his knees into the man's stomach, landed on top of him, and slit his throat with a thin sword. He got up and immediately began fighting the other enemies, using speed tactics. The second man had brown hair. He came in with a knife in each hand and began using agility, much as Arthur did. The third was an albino with a heavy sword that he wielded with both hands, and proved to be strong enough to hack halfway through someone's head. The three fought perfectly with each other, each of them knew exactly where the other two were, and for the longest time, they went through men like they didn't even pose a threat… But all good things come to an end.

Because, much like agility fighters, speed fighters are also prone to running low on energy, and, even if it took some time, the long blonde eventually became slower, and started to back up. It wasn't long until an enemy sliced through the long blonde's rib cage. The long blonde dropped his sword, gripped his side and fell to the floor. But, before the man could strike the last blow, the albino turned around and hacked into the crook of the man's neck, nearly decapitating him.

Then, it was over.

The albino and brown-haired man stood there panting before sheathing their weapons. At their feet, many dead enemies, the long blonde whining in pain, Arthur, who now had a small pool of blood collecting by his head, Excalibur on her owner's chest, and Eiríkur's father, who was visibly dead.

The albino went over to the long blonde, but was waved off, "Check the king." The long blonde turned to the brunette, "Arthur."

The two other men went over to Eiríkur's father and Arthur without a word until the albino spoke softly, "The… The king's dead."

There was a long silence between the three of them, and Eiríkur could feel his heart shatter as more tears streamed down his face. Finally, the long blonde broke the silence, his voice thick with pain, disappointment, and stress, "What about the Royal Bodyguard?"

The brunette paused, "Far from well, but he's alive."

The long blonde coughed, "Oh… God… Dammit…"

The albino walked over to him, "Francis,"

Eiríkur's eyes widened when he realized who the long blonde was. Francis, the leader of The Runners, and he was horribly wounded…

 _How could this get any worse?_ Eiríkur thought to himself.

The albino continued, "We need to get you out of here and back to the hideout. You need medical attention as soon as possible."

"Gil-"

"Gilbert's right." The brunette interrupted, "The kingdom just lost its king, and possibly the rest of the Royal Family, it can't lose you."

Francis sighed, "Alright. Gilbert, help me… An… Antonio… Look for the rest of the Royal Family."

Doing as they were told, Gilbert picked Francis up and carried him out, and Antonio stayed. After a long moment, he took a deep breath and began heading towards the door. That's when Eiríkur came out of his shocked state. He climbed out from under the table, accidentally dropping his dagger onto the floor.

Antonio whirled around, taking his knives off of his belt and getting ready for a fight before his face lit up with recognition, "Prince Eiríkur!" He sheathed his weapons, ran over and kneeled, "I am so glad to have found you! You are not hurt, are you?"

Eiríkur had never met someone from The Runners before, but Antonio acted just as Eiríkur was taught in his lessons. Antonio showed respect by getting down on one knee, but, unlike any other citizen, he held Eiríkur's gaze, telling him that in Antonio's view, they were equal.

Eiríkur snapped himself out of his thoughts, "Oh… No, no, I…" He glanced over to his father, "...I'm fine."

Antonio stood and put a hand on Eiríkur's shoulder, "I am very relieved to hear that, Prince Eiríkur. I hate to be rude, but we must get out of here. Do you by chance know where your mother and brother are?"

Eiríkur sighed, "No. We got separated from them."

Antonio nodded and smiled, "No worries, we will find them. I need you to stay close to me."

"Wait. I know my father is… Is dead." Eiríkur said, knowing that he could run from that fact, "But, what about Arthur?"

"I have known Arthur for a long time," Antonio began, "He is a very strong man, I'm sure he will be fine."

Eiríkur glanced at the bodyguard, he hadn't moved a muscle in what felt like forever, "Shouldn't we take him with us? He isn't safe here." Looking closer, Eiríkur noticed that Arthur wasn't breathing evenly anymore.

Antonio's cheerful expression turned sorrowful, "I am sorry, but we can't, getting you to safety is my first priority. I can't do that with him on my back."

Eiríkur wanted to argue, but he felt too numb. Without a word, he nodded and followed Antonio.

* * *

Author's Note:

I know there's a lot of side info about The Runners and Arthur, but more will be explained in later chapters.

I really hope this turned out well because I have never written a fight scene like that before. I hope there were enough details.

Arthur and his pet/friend/attack raven, Excalibur, will become important characters. I am looking forward to writing Excalibur so much, but I can not give myself credit for the idea, I got inspiration for it after seeing fan-art of England with a couple of ravens at The London Towers.

For this fic, I had to do some research on ravens, and they are very interesting birds! They are extremely smart, their intelligence ranking up with dolphins and elephants! They can even learn to speak clearer than most parrots. They mate for life, are protective of friends, are empathetic, will comfort wounded friends, and show grief when they lose a friend or partner. To top it all, they are also very playful!

Anyway, I fully intend on writing a full story from this. It is going to be a Nordic 5 fic. There are also going to be some important information from Arthur, Francis, The Runners, Ivan, and even Toris (Lithuania) and Feliks (Poland) along the way as well. Needless to say I have a lot planned for this story!

So read and **review** , and enjoy!


	2. A Plan to Leave

_Read the prologue, it's important!_

 _One week later…_

* * *

Aleksander leaned forward on the balcony with a sigh, his elbows on the railing, and looking down at the courtyard in front of him. The clouds above were thick and heavy, there was a slight wind, and everything was quiet. Besides the threatening rain, Aleksander would think of it as peaceful or serene, but it had been hard to feel that way in a long time. Well, only a week, but it felt like an eternity. An eternity of a brutal attack, his father's death, and a lot of worrying for is good friend, Arthur.

Aleksander spent a lot of time on the balcony recently for the courtyard held everything that had happened in the past days: bodies of dead soldiers, then a funeral, and just yesterday, his mother's coronation. Emotions had been a real ride lately. He was happy for his mother, she had a lot of power now, something that she never really had with a king around, but Aleksander was close to his father.

He wasn't that close in his youth, but as he grew and began watching his great father closely so he may one day lead, and his father took a role of an understanding teacher. Slowly explaining his own actions with rationality. He did not fear Aleksander, or view his as a threat to his power, that much was clear. As he observed his father, he learned something very reassuring: His father didn't want _power,_ he wanted _legacy_. Which, is his opinion, was what a leader should want. A leader shouldn't be power hungry, that's how your nation suffers…

 _But, if that doesn't convince you, The Runners will._ Aleksander thought with a small chuckle. He let out a breath, his smile fading quickly, realizing that what he was currently stressing about wasn't the end of it, there was still Francis, and with Arthur in the physician's room, there was no way to contact The Runners. But, from what he heard from Eiríkur, he was probably dead.

The door behind him opened quickly, making Aleksander sigh, it was probably just Lilli, one of the servant girls, but he really rather be left alone. Nonetheless, a prince was never rude. He turned and straightened his posture, only to see a older, short man with long hair march up to him. Kings and Queens were busy, so Aleksander learned most of what he knows about his kingdom and politics is from the old mentor, Yao, who didn't wait for Aleksander to hold out his hand, he smacked it with his stick anyway.

"Why did you skip class?" Yao demanded.

Most wouldn't dare lay a finger on royalty, but Aleksander once saw Yao smack the king himself with his stick, despite the fact that no one believed it ever happened, even Eiríkur. Yao never hits too hard, just enough to sting and make you pay attention, but Aleksander was nineteen. He sighed, "I am really sorry, Yao, but don't hit me, I'm too old."

"Too old?" Yao echoed, smacking his hand again, "If you think you're too old, then you should know how I feel! I get hit with your and your brother's disrespect every goddamn day! What makes you think you can skip my class?"

Aleksander was never really comfortable sharing his feelings, because they don't matter, only actions do, or at least that's what his father had told him. Even if those weren't his own words, he took them to heart. But, he knew he could trust Yao, "I'm…" He paused before gesturing to the courtyard, "Mourning."

Yao didn't hesitate to smack his hand again, "Doesn't matter! You're a prince! You will be king someday! Personal matters can wait! If you're not at class tomorrow, I will get Ludwig to escort you myself!"

Aleksander rubbed the back of his hand, as he tried to remember what came of the Captain of the Guards in the recent events, "Isn't he in the physician's room?"

Yao gave him a long look, is expression of anger worsening, "He is injured and still stronger than you!" He exclaimed before hitting him up on the shoulder, "You have disrespected me enough for today! No go see your mother! He wants to see you!"

Aleksander quickly walked away, "Alright, I'm going!" He said, his voice cracking a little.

Yes, despite as crazy as he seems, he can always trust Yao to give him a well-needed dose of reality.

Aleksander glanced back at the balcony before head through the hallways. Just as he was nearing the throne room, he came across a man that was walking in his direction, eyes set on the hall in front of him, not making any eye contact. The man was tall with fiery red hair, and he seemed familiar, almost as if Aleksander had met him briefly, so perhaps he was a lord or politician, but he still couldn't quite place it. The man walked quickly, his face twisted in anger and frustration, his blue cloak spreading out away from his feet, but despite the intense look and haste that the man had, just when the two past each other, Aleksander felt an overwhelming feeling of warmth and calm. It hit him like a brick wall, but just like that, it was gone. The man continued past him, taking the strange aura with him.

Aleksander slowed and looked after him. After a moment, he just narrowed his eyebrows, shook his head out of whatever daze his was in, and continued down the hallway. He could investigate this later. Or, pretty soon, actually.

He walked into the throne room to see his mother and Eiríkur sitting on the furniture over on the left by the windows. He walked over, his back straight and his head high. He was a prince, after all. "Who was that?" He asked his mother.

His mother tilted her head slightly, "Who is who, sweetie?"

Aleksander gestured to the door he came in, "The man I passed in the hall? The one with the blue cloak?"

His mother though for a moment, "Oh, him? I'll get around to it, but first I need to talk to you. Please sit."

Aleksander did what he was told.

"Now," His mother began, "When your father was younger, about, oh…" She looked up to the ceiling in thought, "About seventeen or so, he-"

The throne room door opened, interrupting the story before it even got anywhere. His mother sighed in annoyance, "I thought I said something about privacy." She said, but just as she looked over to the door, Excalibur flew in, followed by Arthur. His mother nearly stood out of her chair, and if he was honest with himself, Aleksander was surprised too. But, he was happy to see Arthur up, despite the fact that he really shouldn't be.

Excalibur flew over and perched herself on the arm of Eiríkur's chair. Eiríkur gave a small smile at the raven, "Well, hello." He greeted, scratching the back of the bird's head, which was rewarded with a small cooing sound of delight.

Aleksander's attention was brought back to is mother as she finally stood, worry painted on her face, "Arthur! You should be the physician!"

Arthur walked in slowly, a limp in his step and a bandage around his head, but even though the pain he was in was visible, the young man smiled, "I thought that a week was a long enough break."

"I wouldn't call laying in the physician's room unconscious for five days a break." Eiríkur put bluntly.

His mother gave Eiríkur a warning glance before turning back to Arthur with a sigh, "What are you doing out of bed? You can't-"

Arthur interrupted her, "I am the Royal Bodyguard, I have things to do."

Aleksander's mother pinched the the bridge of her nose, "What could possibly be more important than recovering?"

Arthur reached inside the bag that hung on his shoulder and pulled out a scroll before handing out to her, "I spoke with The Runners today." He said simply.

Between the bodyguard's knee and head wounds, he really shouldn't have gotten on a horse, and Aleksander could tell just by the look on his mother's face that she was tempted to scold him for it, but after a long moment of her debating with herself, she took the scroll and opened it. She scanned it before he began to read:

" _Your Highness, Heir Aleksander, and Prince Eiríkur,_

 _I know this is a hard time for you, and the entire Kingdom. Everywhere my men go, they only see people mourning, and I know that their pain is nothing compared to yours. This is why I am writing this letter, for it is my own fault._

" _The Runners have sworn to take down tyrants and protect noble leaders. The King was a very noble and caring man to his citizens, but someone planned an attack on the castle, and somehow, slipped past me and my men. By the time we got to the castle, the attackers were already in the building, and your Royal Guards were losing quickly. I tried to help as much as possible, but when I thought I was just in time, I was actually too late. Your Royal Bodyguard was left unconscious, and the King had met his untimely end._

" _I do not know how these people got around me, for it has never happened before. All I know is that the attack was from an inside power, and not some sort of army or attack from a neighboring nation. The only thing I can do now is put more men in the capital for your protection, which has already been done._

" _The Runners have been your ally for Alvald The Great, and I have failed him, you, the kingdom, and my lost men. However, it would seem as I am already paying for my failure, for I am extremely wounded and may not recover._

" _I apologize greatly for this tragedy. Perhaps if I had worked harder, and been more observant, I could have prevented this attack as I had in the past. I pray for your family's health, well-being, and future, as well as give you my condolences._

 _With sympathy and sorrow,_

 _Francis Bonnefoy"_

It was a touching letter, to say the least. The guilt expressed in the letter made Aleksander sad, for he never really blamed Francis or his men in the first place. But, it was also reassuring to know they have more protection in the city. Aleksander looked to the others for their reaction. His mother looked depressed and Eiríkur looked numb as he had been for the past week, but it was Arthur's broken expression that surprised him.

His mother finally spoke, breaking the long silence and Aleksander's thoughts, "When did Francis write this?"

Arthur shook himself out of his trance, "I'm not sure. He didn't say."

"He's alive?" Eiríkur asked, his voice thick with disbelief.

Arthur nodded slowly, "Yes. I don't know how much longer, though. He swore to me that he'll pull through, but his second and third in command told me not to keep my hopes up."

"Well, if he's survived this long…" Aleksander said, not really finishing his own statement, something he should stay away from implications, that's how miscommunications happen.

"I'll have a letter for him by tomorrow morning, he really shouldn't be blaming himself for this. He's only human." She was silent for a short moment before she turned back to Aleksander and his brother, "In the meantime, I have something to tell you two." She then went back to her story from before, "When your father was a prince, he went out and-"

Arthur interrupted her, "Oh, no!" He said, his voice suddenly raised, "No, no, no, they are _not_ doing that!"

His mother looked at him, "You don't even know what I'm going to say!"

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest, "Yes I do! You and Alvald were discussing it with me, and I arranged everything, but we are going to have to postpone this after what happened last week!"

"This is a perfect time!" His mother countered, "They have targets on their backs while they are here!"

"Um, excuse me," Eiríkur chimed, "What are you talking about?"

His mother sighed and picked up her story, "When your father was young, he went out and lived among the citizens for a while. He has always told me that it is what every leader should do before taking power so they know what their citizens go through everyday and their opinions on life there."

Aleksander nodded, "Seems like a wise decision."

"Wait," Eiríkur began, "Did everyone know he was the prince?"

She shook her head, "No, no. He dressed like a citizen and took and different name. No now recognized him."

"But," Arthur interrupted again, "We are holding off on that until whatever happened last week is settled!"

Aleksander's mother stood, "No, they are leaving tomorrow night, just as planned earlier." Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but she didn't let him, "I do not want them in this palace, I may gave guards here, but who ever attacked us went through them like they weren't even wearing armor."

"But-"

His mother went on, "I want them safe, and them hiding among the citizens is the closest thing I have to it, no one would think to look for them in a crowd."

There was another long silence as the two stared at each other, trying to get the other to back down, but then Arthur spoke, "You know, after hearing Ludwig trying to resist treatment so he can go back on duty for a week, I didn't think that anyone could be more stubborn than a Germanic."

Aleksander's mother smiled, "I thought it was easy for a Celtic." She teased.

Arthur took a long pause, "Fine. I will notify the ones they are staying with and Francis." He then clicked his tongue, which signaled Excalibur to come to him. The Raven flew over and perched on his shoulder as he turned away.

His mother relaxed, "Thank you for making this easy one me. Be safe. And take breaks, you need rest."

Arthur only waved her off as he went through the doors, closing them behind him.

Once the bodyguard was gone, Aleksander's mother looked back to them, "Arthur has been seeking out people that would be trustworthy enough to know your real identities, you will be staying with them the whole time you are away."

Eiríkur sighed, "Well, that's a relief. It sounded like you were just going to drop us in the middle on nowhere."

"I can't remember their names off the top of my head," She said, "But, Aleks, you will be with a traveler, and Eirík, you'll stay with some innkeepers."

Aleksander nodded in compliance, but Eiríkur didn't seem to understand, "You're splitting us up?"

Their mother nodded, "Yes. You two would be more recognizable together, so you have to be." There was another long silence until she spoke again, "Are there any other questions?"

Aleksander shared a glance with his brother, "I don't think so."

Their mother nodded, "Alright, well you two pack some things that you'll like to take. Don't worry about clothes, I had gotten some lower-class clothing for you."

Aleksander did what he wa told, just as he was told to do it. He packed practical things that were lightweight, along with some of his favorite books. He also decided to take his hair clip that was made out of pearls and silver. It was very expensive, and would stand out from the rest of his clothing, he knew, but if he was to be away from his brother for so long, he may as well take something that Eiríkur had given him.

They last week had been a ride of emotions, and never knew what to expect from his life next.

* * *

Authors note:

Did you catch Scotland? You'll see him later I promise!

Anyway, once again, I am writing a full story out of this, and have a lot planned. Most chapters will be longer that the last two, but hopefully not painfully long. I know all the events that happen, now I have to deal with splitting up chapter and pacing, so bare with me!

Read and review!


	3. Lukas and Emil

Eiríkur would never admit it, but it was a hard goodbye.

This was mostly because, since the attack, everything had been so confusing. Perhaps if he was more comfortable in his life, it wouldn't have been so hard to leave home, but he wasn't comfortable, so it was hard. What made all worse was the recurring thought that he would never see anyone again. Which, before the attack, Eiríkur would have considered that thought as silly. Of course he was going to see his mother and brother again. Why wouldn't he? But, if Eiríkur has learned anything within the recent events is that you never know.

But, when the moment came, Eiríkur remained composed, even if he was scared in his heart, and he remained casual when he said goodbye, even though he hugged his mother and brother tightly, as if it were the last time he was to see them. Just in case.

It didn't help that they left at different times. They were told that they shouldn't leave the palace at the same time, for safety reasons, so Aleksander was to leave the morning after Eiríkur left. Which meant that both his mother and brother would see him out, and watch him leave with sad and worried looks as he followed Arthur out of the stables, through the forest, and to the outskirts of the city.

It poured on them the whole time, and as fast as they were going on their horses, the raindrops felt like bee stings. Naturally, Eiríkur used that excuse to take breaks, when really, he was trying to give Arthur a break, just as his mother told him to do. The poor man still had a bandage around his head, and his limp slowly got heavier as they went along.

It didn't take as long as Eiríkur thought, but eventually, they turned onto a well-traveled road, and sure enough, ten minutes later they came to a building with a sign in front of it that read _Arrow's Inn_. They sat on their horses for a moment before Arthur made his way to a horizontal post, where they could tie their horses to. Eiríkur followed him, and got off just as Arthur did, and was about to tie Oak, his horse, to the post when something caught the corner of his eye. Eiríkur felt himself flinch when he turned to a large cloaked figure in the dark, pouring rain.

"I can take you horse." The figure simply said, his voice barely loud enough to hear in the rain.

"I-I-uh…" Eiríkur stuttered, glancing at Oak, suddenly feeling a bit protective and on edge, "Wh-what?"

"I can take your horse." The figure repeated, louder this time.

Eiríkur stared at him for a moment, not knowing how to respond before Arthur spoke up next to him, "They have stables in back, lad." He clarified.

"Oh," Eiríkur breathed, now feeling a little stupid. He quickly took his bags off of his horse before handing the figure Oak's reins, "Here, thank you."

The figure only nodded in response as he took the reins and lead Oak away.

"Come, lad." Arthur said as he turned away, heading to the Inn, which had someone on the porch holding a lantern.

As they walked up the porch steps, the man with the lantern opened the front door for them, "Quickly, guys, it's pouring out here." The man said in a kind voice.

Eiríkur gave a good look around when he walked in. The place was well-lit with a big fire place, there was furniture and tables around to sit at, a long Innkeeper's desk and a staircase that went to the upper level, which was where the guest rooms probably were. For the most part, it felt comfortable, warm and homey, something that a prince that had never been outside the palace didn't expect from a middle-class building.

"I'll get something for you two to dry off with." The man said as he set his lantern down on a side table by the door and rushing into the building, cutting into Eiríkur's thoughts.

"That's not needed for me," Arthur started, "I won't be staying long."

The man turned halfway back to them, "Are you sure? With that limp?"

Arthur nodded, "I'm sure."

The man paused, "Maybe you should rest for just a few hours."

"I can't, I need to get the lad's brother to who will be watching over him." Arthur answered.

The man sighed as he continued towards his desk, his voice showing that he didn't agree with Arthur, but was perhaps too nice to argue further, "If you insist." He said before disappearing through a door behind the desk.

Eiríkur turned to Arthur, "My mom will kill you if you don't rest."

"I have more important things to do." Arthur responded with determinization in his voice. It was strange, all of these years Arthur had been a friend and brother to Eiríkur and for the first time in his thirteen years of life, was he now seeing and realizing that Arthur was his bodyguard, someone who had trained and promised to fight, kill and die to protect him and his family, no matter what. No wonder why Arthur refused to rest, it wasn't stubbornness and pride, he was doing what he had sworn to do.

Once again, Eiríkur was brought out of his thoughts when Arthur said, "His name is Tino."

Eiríkur looked back to him, "What?"

Arthur nodded towards the door that the man left through, "That was Tino." He restated, "He's a very sweet man, I think you two will get a long."

Eiríkur paused, almost afraid to ask his question, "What about the person who took my horse?"

Arthur bent down and began to rub his ailing knee, "That's Berwald. He might seem rough around the edges, but he's trustworthy. A bit quiet, though, be prepared to have a lot of awkward silences around him."

Eiríkur was about to respond when Tino rushed back in with a wide smile, "Here you go, Eiríkur," He said, handing him a cloth. Eiríkur took it gratefully, silently taking note of Tino's eastern accent. "Don't forget to dry you hair, we don't want you getting sick, now." Tino's smile dropped as he gave a look of concern to Arthur, "Are you sure you don't want to rest? Free of charge."

Arthur shook his head and gave a pleasant smile, "I'm sure, Tino, thank you for the offer."

"Of course, but maybe you should at least have something to eat, to give the rain a chance to let up."

Arthur chuckled, "Thank you, but I have to go. I have another prince to hide."

Tino blinked a few times, seemingly debating if he should push the matter further, but decided against it, "If you say so."

Arthur turned to Eiríkur, "You be good while I'm gone, lad." he ordered.

Eiríkur nodded, "I will."

Arthur gave him a suspicious look, "You promise?"

Eiríkur rolled his eyes, "Yes." He groaned, "I'll be fine. I'm not a kid."

Arthur scoffed, "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night."

Eiríkur gave him a glare, which faded when Arthur said, "Goodbye."

Eiríkur nodded, making sure to sound casual as the thought that he wouldn't see Arthur again came back to his mind, "Goodbye."

"Oh, don't look at me like that, lad," Arthur said with a small chuckle, "I'll visit you and your brother periodically. You'll see me next week."

Eiríkur gave a small shrug, "I know."

There was a short pause before Arthur turned around and opened the door, "Thanks again for everything, Tino, and make sure to thank Berwald for me."

"Oh, no problem, thank you for the privilege," Tino said as he followed the bodyguard, seeing him out, "And you and Excalibur are welcome anytime, you be safe."

"I'll try." Was Arthur's response.

 _Try?_ The word echoed in his head as Tino shut the door behind Arthur.

"Well," Tino started before Eiríkur could worry about it any further, "My name is Tino," He held a hand for Eiríkur to shake, "But I'm sure Arthur already told you that…" He added sheepishly.

Eiríkur shook his hand, "He did, it's nice to meet you."

Tino nodded awkwardly, "Likewise, Eiríkur, and-" he cut himself off with a gasp, "Speaking of names, you need to go by a different one, yes?"

"Well, my father did that during his experience, it would only make sense." Eiríkur replied, sounding a little too sarcastic for a first meeting.

Tino didn't seem to catch the comment as he ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair, rambling more to himself than anyone, "Oh, I shouldn't give you a name, though, I terrible at names as it is, I can't even remember the names of your regulars. I'll just forget, it maybe Berwald will know-"

Right on que, Berwald came in through the door behind the desk, making his way over to them as he took off his hood. "Berwald," Tino began, turning to look at him, "Eiríkur needs a name to go by while he stays with us. You wouldn't know a good name would you?"

Berwald gave Eiríkur a long look with his intense teal eyes. For a moment, the tall man said nothing, and Eiríkur could feel himself shift uncomfortably, unsure of what to do under his gaze, but eventually, Berwald did speak, "Emil."

After a moment, Tino smiled, "Yeah, that sounds like a nice name. What do you think? We can always figure something else out if you don't like it."

Eiríkur looked from Berwald to Tino, giving him a unbelieving expression. Tino was such a petite man, yet he showed no fear of the giant next to him. Perhaps he was just used to it, although Eiríkur could never imagine ever getting used to him. But, Arthur put a lot of thought into choosing who and who wasn't trustworthy for this, maybe he should just trust Arthur's judgement.

Realizing he was just staring at the two in front of him, Eiríkur shook himself out of his daze, "Uh, sure," He shrugged, "Emil sounds fine."

Tino clasped his hands together, "Great! Now," He pointed to a coat rack beside them, "You can hang your coat there, and go ahead and make yourself at home at one of the tables, Berwald made some of his best potato soup for us to eat when you arrived, I will go serve it up," He turned to the giant next to him, "Berwald, could you please take the Prince's bags to his room?"

Berwald grunted in reply, bending down and taking Eiríkur bags.

"I'll help you." Eiríkur offered.

But, just before he could pick up one of his bags, Berwald glanced up at him, "I got it." He said in his deep voice that stopped his in his tracks.

Tino waved at him dismissively, "Don't worry about him Eiríkur, or I mean, _Emil,_ " He said with a wink, "Berwald can handle it, he's really strong."

Once Berwald had the bags, he began to leave, Tino following him, "Go ahead and take off your coat and sit wherever you'd like," Tino repeated, "I'll be out with soup in a minute."

And just like that, they were gone. Eiríkur stared in the direction where the two had left for a while, fully convinced that this was all a bad idea. They were such a strange pair, one of them glaring at him like how a murderer glares at their next victim, and the other as sweet as vanilla filling. Eiríkur sighed, knowing that he would never get used to those two.

* * *

It had poured all night, but now, the water droplets remained on the soggy ground, glistening in the sun, and for a prince that had never been outside the palace, the forest was beautiful. Aleksander had been nervous about being with a traveler where, for the most part, they never really would have a shelter, just a camp, but nature didn't seem so bad, in fact it made him eager for his adventure with this traveler, whose name Arthur had not mentioned, come to think of it.

He wondered what things he would see, the people he would meet. Maybe they would go up on the smaller mountains, and see the city from below, or find some other travelers and share stories, even though Aleksander would have to make up his. Perhaps they would go stay at the same inn that Eiríkur was at. Aleksander didn't know which inn it was, but it wasn't in the realm of impossibilities.

That was when a thought occurred, the fact that he might get to see something that was impossible to see inside the city. Curious, he looked ahead, "Arthur?"

Arthur didn't even look back at him before responding in monotone, "No, I'm not taking a break."

Aleksander gave a breath of laughter, "It's not that."

"Then what?"

Aleksander paused, trying not to sound too hopeful, "Will I get to see magical creatures out here?"

Arthur shook his head, "No, not here anyway. You might if Matthias takes you deeper into the forest, but not while you're this close to the city."

"Matthias is the traveler?" Aleksander asked.

"Yes."

Aleksander nodded and continued the subject, "I've read that there are a lot of fairies here."

Arthur adjusted on his horse, "They are a little further away from the city, but yes, you might see them, they are quite picky on who they show themselves to, and who they like."

Aleksander gave his friend a challenging look, "Really? You say that they like you. They must not be too picky then."

Arthur gave a sarcastic laugh, "You are very funny."

Aleksander shrugged, "I don't think I have anything to worry about when it comes to them."

Arthur nodded in agreement, "As long as you respect them, then the only thing you have to worry about is not telling your mother about encountering them. She is quite wary of magic."

Aleksander huffed, "That's something I'm going to change. Magic is going to be more accepted, even near the crown."

"White and clean magic are already legal, but I wouldn't put them near the crown right away," Arthur advised, "The Runners are also wary of magic. Or, at least most of them are, Francis himself isn't, but…" Arthur trailed off for a moment, "I haven't heard news since I notified them that you were leaving the palace."

"He's still alive?" Aleksander asked in disbelief.

Arthur gave a scoff, "I don't think he'll pull through his injury, but it wouldn't surprise me if he did. He's a very stubborn man."

Aleksander glanced away in thought, "He seems like an interesting man, it's unfortunate that I'm not allowed to meet him in person. He-"

"Shh." Arthur's hush was quick and serious, "Stop talking about The Runners."

Aleksander narrowed his eyebrows, "Why?"

Arthur didn't answer, but when they rounded the corner in the path, they saw another man on a brown and white horse. He sloughed forward, watching the horse graze on some grass. It was such a mundane, everyday scene, but with how the sun came through the trees and lit up the little leftover raindrops, it looked like a beautiful painting for the short second that the man didn't notice them. But, a second later, the man picked up his head, grabbed the horse's reins, and making his way over to them.

They stopped a few feet away from each other before the man looked Aleksander up and down with a cocky smile and spoke in an accent that Aleksander hadn't heard before, "So, this is the best peasant clothes you could put on him, Arthur?"

Arthur sighed, "Matthias, I wasn't the one who dressed him."

"He looks, upper-class," Matthias criticized with a mocking laugh, "Middle-class at the lowest."

"I have traveled enough to know that, thank you very much." Arthur said, nearly speaking through his teeth, "And that is no proper way to greet a prince."

Matthias gave the Celtic a teasing smile, "I thought that he wasn't a prince, and that his name was Lukas."

Aleksander glance to Arthur in confusion, "Lukas?"

"Well, you can't go my your real name, right?" Matthias answered, "Lukas was the first name that came to my head."

Arthur turned to Aleksander, "As you can see, Aleks, Matthias here is a very," Arthur paused as if he were trying to find an alternative to cursing, " _Interesting_ character, but he's honest and trustworthy."

The traveler gave Arthur a sarcastic smile, "Just call me a bastard next time, alright?"

Arthur gave a nod, "Well, now that I have your permission, I will." He looked back to Aleksander, "If you don't have any last questions, I will be off."

Aleksander looked to the traveler, trying not to show concern, "I don't think so…"

"I'll see you next week. Of course, that's if _you,"_ Arthur said, glaring at Matthias, "Stick to the schedule."

Matthias waved him off, "Yeah, yeah, I get it, mom."

Arthur scoffed as he turned his horse around, "Goodbye, Aleks, and stay safe."

Aleksander nodded, "I will, goodbye."

Arthur whipped the reins of his horse and rode away nearly in a full gallop, faster than Aleksander expected. There was a long silence as he looked in Arthur's direction, beginning to regret this. After all, if Arthur didn't get along with Matthias, he doubt that he would.

"Wow," Matthias said, breaking the silence, "He's gonna be furious when we're a day late."

Aleksander looked at him, "Why would we be a day late?"

Matthias gestured to him, "Well, unless you wanta get robbed, I suggest that we sell your sad excuse for peasant clothes and get you some real ones."

Aleksander tilted his head, "You have money for that?"

Matthias laughed, "No, but you do."

He gave the traveler an irritated look, "I know I'm a prince, but I didn't bring that much money, I-"

For the first time in his life, someone interrupted and insulted him, "You're wearing it, stupid." Matthias chuckled, "We sell your good clothes and get peasant ones."

Aleksander tightened his grip on his horse's reins, "Don't insult me."

Matthias gave another cocky smile, "Welcome to real life, where people don't care about your little feelings." He turned around, "Now follow me, we will arrive at the market in the morning."

Aleksander paused before following, fuming over the travelers attitude, and regretting his decision about coming and not pushing his mother to try to let him stay at the palace.

* * *

"Hi'ya, Arthur!"

Arthur always gave Alfred, and his elusive twin Matthew, a strange look whenever they talked to him, for their accent was something in between celtic, norse, and latin, and their sayings like 'Hi'ya' had never been heard of. Not that either of the twins would tell where they're from, whenever asked, they'd always just smile and say, "Far away from here."

But, Arthur was never one to be rude, or at least he wasn't rude unless someone (like Matthias) as rude to him first, so he gave the young man a smile, "Hello, Alfred," He greeted before asking, "Do you think you can direct me to Francis?"

Alfred turned, gesturing forward with his wide smile, "Sure thing, pal. He's in his quarters like last time, and the time before, and the time-" He cut himself off, looking up at the ceiling above, "-No, I think the time before the attack, he was in the-"

Arthur didn't have time for this, "Thank you, Alfred." He said curtly before walking away, leaving the doorman behind. To think about it, Alfred wasn't really a "doorman" for The Runner's hideouts were always underground, but that's what Francis called him anyway.

"No problem, bud, see'ya later."

Arthur didn't even know what a 'bud' was. Didn't matter, what mattered was that Francis knew that the Princes were with Tino, Berwald and Matthias. Arthur made his way through the halls and to Francis' quarters, pausing by the door to take a collective breath, preparing to see the worst. He knocked on the door, and was promptly greeted with a: "Come in."

When he opened the door, he expected Francis to be in his bed, pale and exhausted, but to Arthur's surprise, he found Francis at his desk looking at a map. Arthur gasped, quickly making his way over to him, "Francis, what are you doing? You should be in bed!"

To Arthur's horror, Francis stood up, looking at him in the eye with a teasing smile, "Are you worried? Aww, you do care about me!"

Arthur opened and closed his mouth, trying to find words through his disbelief, "But you- how did you- you can't just-"

Francis laughed, "Wow, I didn't expect that reaction, it's really funny, actually." Arthur just stared at him, giving up on trying to create a sentence as the Frank's laugh winded down, "Relax, _cher,_ I got help from the White Healer."

Arthur blinked at the man in surprise, "The White Healer? You turned to magic for help?"

Francis grabbed his hand lightly and moved a little closer, "Well, yes. There's nothing to be afraid of, you showed me that a long time ago, back when we were nothing but little killers in training."

"Would you be quiet?" Arthur scolded in a low voice, "If the crown finds out about my magic, I'm banished!"

Francis rolled his eyes, "You should try to get Queen Anya to change that. I mean, no one else with clean magic would get banished, just you."

"Alvald was wary of magic, Anya is _scared_ of it. You think that I could convince her?" Arthur asked sarcastically.

Francis shrugged, "Well, there's always Aleksander. You've told me that he thinks of the subject as interesting."

" _If_ I live that long." Arthur responded.

Francis' blue eyes adjusted to the wrapping around Arthur's head before reaching up and running his thumb back and forth across it, "Fair point."

Arthur nudged his hand away, "I'm fine."

Francis' teasing smile returned, "Want me to kiss it better?"

Things like that was a conversation for another time, so Arthur changed the subject, hoping that Francis would let him, "Eiríkur is at the Inn, and Aleksander is with Matthias."

Francis lifted an eyebrow, "Thanks for the update. But, I expected some sort of come-back there."

Arthur really didn't know how to start the subject, "No, I don't want you to kiss it better."

This was a poor response because Francis decided to chuckle and begin to kiss at Arthur's jaw line, "I know you're hurt, but that doesn't mean I still can't kiss you, right?"

Arthur gently pushed him away, "Listen, there is a change in leadership, and who knows what might happen. Hell, I'm not supposed to be in any relationship to avoid corruption, let alone _you_."

Francis gave an offended look, "Why me?"

Arthur began to rant, "If Anya goes crazy, I'm sworn to protect her and you're sworn to take down tyrants. I just don't think-"

Francis cut him off with a groan as he walked over to his bed and sat down, "You know, Arthur, Alvald could have hit his head and went crazy, but we were still kissing and having sex when no one was looking."

Arthur crossed his arms, "Well, that's a way to sugar-coat it."

Francis sighed, "So what? We are going to pretend that we mean nothing to each other until you're convinced that Anya isn't going to start chopping people's heads off?"

It didn't seem like a good plan when put that way, but Arthur still agreed, "Yes."

Francis put his head in his hands for a long while before lifting his sight back to him, "Arthur, pushing me away isn't going to help. If the worst happens, then you'll just regret it, whether win or lose, or even if we both survive the fight."

Arthur stood there, shifting his weight for a few moments before Francis patted the bed, asking him to come over. Arthur walked over and sat next to him and let Francis wrap an arm around his waist and kiss the side of his head, right where the wound was.

"I will always fight for the kingdom's sake. And you will always fight for the crown, even if you know it's wrong you will because of your promise." Francis started, "But even if our swords clash, it doesn't matter, we'll both be together in the end, even if it's in the afterlife."

Arthur bursted into laughter, falling down on the bed, " _Oh my God!"_

" _Quoi?"_

Arthur continued laughing, "I can't believe you actually said that!"

Francis smacked him playfully on the shoulder, "What? What's wrong about it."

Arthur took a moment to calm down before answering, "It sounds like something out of a cheap romance book!"

"You only know that because that's all you read." Francis teased. Arthur stared up at the other man for a long time before Francis smiled, "See? You can't push me away! You love me too much!" He practically sang. When Arthur only rolled his eyes Francis said, "Don't worry, I live you too."

Arthur scoffed, "Oh, thank God for that."

A fond look came over the Frank's face as he began pet Arthur's hair, "I saw that ungodly limp of yours. Why don't you stay a night and rest before getting back on your horse and making your knee worse?"

Arthur closed his eyes peacefully as he enjoyed Francis' fingers running through his hair, "Sounds nice."

* * *

Yay! I finally got a full chapter in! Sorry for the long wait, I had some writer's block with another story of mine and I was on vacation, so this was delayed.

Anyway, if you don't like FrUK, don't worry too much, Arthur is a side character, and Francis will be seen even less, so I don't even think it counts as a side plot. No one else but Arthur and Francis know about it, and very few chapters will be in their view, so it may be a while until it is mentioned again.

If you skipped the FrUK part, go back to the beginning of the scene, there is some important stuff regarding how the Royal Bodyguard and The Runners associate with each other. Once Francis sits on his bed is where you can stop I suppose.

 **Please review!**


	4. The Market

"Hey, Gil?"

That was the last voice Gilbert expected to hear, and when he turned around, sure enough, it was Francis jogging over to catch him before he left the hideout.

"Well, would you look at you," Gilbert started, confused, "...You know, not dead."

Francis rolled his eyes, "I'm glad you care."

"I do" Gilbert insisted, "I just didn't think you'd be out of bed, or walking…" He shrugged, "Or breathing."

"He got help from the White Healer," Alfred piped up next to him, "Seemed like a cool guy."

"'Guy?'" Gilbert quoted.

"Yeah, y'know, a guy."

Gilbert glanced from Alfred to his twin, Matthew, in confusion, prompting him to explain. Matthew cleared hit throat, "A person, usually male."

"Ah." Gilbert responded in understanding.

"Matthew, what are you doing here?" Francis asked in irritation.

"Francis, I live here." The timid man said, earning a chuckle from Gilbert, despite how kind Matthew was, he could be quite sarcastic sometimes.

"You're distracting Alfred." Francis accused.

"Nah," Alfred answered, "He wasn't. We were just talkin'."

"Alright then, Alfred," Francis said in a testing tone, "Then tell me why Gilbert is here, because whether or not he has authority, he still needs a reason for you to let him in."

"He was lookin' for Antonio."

Finally, Francis turned his attention to Gilbert again, "Why?"

"Because I needed to report to you," Gilbert answered, "But you were probably dead, and even if you weren't he was the one taking care of you, plus he the second in command and was practically running the place and-"

Francis covered his face with his hands, "Gilbert stop." He dropped his hands with a sigh, "I called you here because I need you to run an errand for me."

Alfred gasped excitedly, "Does he get to kill someone? Can I go?"

Francis gaze shifted to the young twin, giving him a strange look, "No…" Francis then shook his head, getting back on track, "We have some new recruits, therefore, we need a few swords. Go to the blacksmith in Redwood and get that for me."

"Redwood?" Gilbert echoed, nervousness showing in his voice.

Francis gave another irritated look, it seems as though that the man's patience was thin today, "Is there a problem?"

Gilbert stumbled on his words before coming up with a reason to go somewhere else, "Well-I-uh, Th-the blacksmith there doesn't really _agree_ with what The Runners do."

Francis dug into his chest pocket and tossed over a bag of coins, "That's what the money is for. Go. And try to be back by tomorrow night."

Gilbert put the coins in his shoulderbag, "Yes, sir."

"Oh, and take Matthew with you," The Frank ordered as he nodded to the young man, "It's not like he's doing anything important."

Gilbert and Matthew gave each other a look of panic, "Well, I'm sure he has something that he could do." Gilbert suggested.

" _Oui_ , and that would be helping you." Francis answered, turning away, "And by the way, Ivan is close, so if you see Toris and Feliks, tell them I said 'hello'." He noted bitterly.

Gilbert and the two twins stood there in silence for a moment before Gilbert let out an angry sigh, "Well, he's in a mood. I think I liked him better when he was quiet." He then walked out the door, heading to the hidden stables in the trees.

Matthew followed close behind him, "I'm sure he's just stressed. Everyone is after the attack."

Gilbert shrugged as he shived a bit at the crisp night air, "Still, he usually isn't that snappy with you and Alfred."

"Well, up until recently, things have been rather easy for him." Matthew started, "I mean, Alvald was such a good king, that we were pretty inactive."

Gilbert tracked through the trees until he got to the stables. Standing outside was his horse that was already hitched to a cart. He didn't bother unhitching it when he arrived, knowing that he wasn't going to stay long. He sighed as he tossed his shoulderbag into the cart and began to climb into the seat, "You know, people call him the best leader in The Runners' history, but what has he done?" He asked, shooting Matthew a look, "Now, his mother was great, she took down a tyrant, but the Alvald took control, Francis came into power soon after, and we've been pretty dormant."

"I don't think it's just him, Gil." Matthew said, stepping onto the cart and sitting down next to him, "We have a whole new generation of members here. Think about it, Francis' mother, Gallia, died when he was…"

"Fifteen." Gilbert offered, taking the reins and heading to the nearest traveled path, "Barely old enough to take leadership."

Matthew nodded, "Right. Then Alicia, Gallia's and Francis' first second in command fell ill and died as well, Athena, Aklia, and Haldor are all history too…" He shrugged, "We've had to start over, and without conflict, we can't learn."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, "'Without conflict we can't learn.'" He echoed, glancing at the young man, "Is that the kind of crap the teach you where you come from?"

A small expression of hurt crossed Matthew's face, "Yes. What do they teach you here?"

"Well, I don't know about here, but back in the Germanic countries, they teach you that you learn through training."

"And why do you train?"

Gilbert went over a few bumps before turning to a well traveled road, "So I know how to fight."

Matthew gave a smug smile, "Why would you learn how to fight? So you can win in a conflict? If there were no conflicts, Gil, then you wouldn't have to train."

Gilbert glanced at him a few times, unsure of how to respond until he decided to shove him playfully, "I hate you."

"No you don't." Matthew said confidently, "I know you love me."

Gilbert was silent. Rarely did they say things like that, and that was beyond Gilbert's understanding. With all the inactivity of The Runners, there was time to get attached to others like that but, as Gilbert had learned recently, things happen, and you could be safe one day, but in hot water the next. That and Francis had basically adopted the two twins as his younger brothers a long time ago, and he could be quite protective of them. As sweet as his friend could be, Gilbert had seen his brutal side, and would hate to be on it. Then again, as much as a romantic as the man was at heart, maybe this was the real reason he set Matthew with him… Gilbert hated mixed messages.

"The blacksmith isn't going to listen to us, you know that, right?" Gilbert said, changing the subject.

"Don't worry, I love you too." Matthew sighed, "And no, I think the money will persuade him."

"He's Germanic."

"So?"

Gilbert paused as he glanced at him, "You have know idea how stubborn they can be."

Matthew chuckled, "I know you, don't I? No one is as stubborn as you."

Gilbert was silent for a long time, "Then you don't know my father."

* * *

Most of the previous day went exactly like the moment when Arthur rode off on his horse and left Alexander with Matthias. The traveler's personality was irritating to say the least. Sure, Alexander was a prince, and wasn't used to people talking to him as if he wasn't such, but were all normal people this disrespectful to each other? Always taunting, interrupting, and insulting? There was no way he was going to make it through the couple months he was supposed to stay.

Matthias personally enjoyed it, Aleksander could tell from that stupid, taunting smile of his, and the gleam of amusement in his eyes. This, above all things, was what frustrated Alexander the most: The traveler had no shame, didn't care what people thought of him, didn't care that he didn't care, and if someone tried to make him feel bad, he would just laugh, and disrespect you again.

But, like a hyperactive child, Matthias eventually settled camp and went to sleep, leaving Aleksander to lay in his bed (if he could even call it that), stare at the stars, and toss and turn as he desperately tried to get comfortable on the hard ground. Luckily, due to the exhaustion from the long, stressful day, it didn't take too long for him to drift into a doze, but he doubted he was ever able to visit deep sleep.

Not like Matthias was helping at the moment.

"Hey, Lukas! Rise and shine!"

Aleksander then felt something hit his shoulder, and when he turned his head, he came face-to-face with Matthias' dirt covered boots. He closed his eyes again with a sigh, silently wishing that he could just go home and leave Matthias to anger someone else.

"Lukas, look at you. Pretending that I don't exist! You're so silly!"

Aleksander looked up to send a glare at the traveler, but just as Aleksander expected, Matthias only smiled wider. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty!" He exclaimed.

Aleksander wanted to snap at him, but a prince was never rude. He sighed, "Good morning, Matthias."

Matthias' smile turned taunting as he crouched down to his level, "Let me hear that again, a little less bitter this time."

 _Hit him,_ A small voice said in his head, but Aleksander kept a hold of his restraint, and said nothing.

Matthias patted his shoulder, "Don't worry, we can work on that later." He said before walking back to the center of their camp.

Aleksander couldn't hold back his tongue anymore, the traveler was just too irritating. He sat up, continuing his glare, "Maybe we can work on your attitude, too."

Matthias began to stir something in a pot above the fire, "Or," He started, looking back at him, "We can work on your sense of humor."

Aleksander rolled his eyes and changed the subject, "How long have you been working on that?"

"Your sense of humor? About a day."

Aleksander pinched at the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on, "No-I… I meant what's in the pot."

"You see, Lukas, that's what we have to work on." The traveler began, leaving the pot and going through one of his bags, "What I just said was supposed to make you laugh. Of course I knew what you meant, I'm not an idiot." He pulled out two bowls as he continued, pausing what he was doing to look at him as he did so, "Since you weren't specific when you asked me-"

"If you have to explain the joke, then it's not funny." Aleksander interrupted him.

Matthias' smile fell into a thin line, "It's chicken chowder. I've been working on it for a while now."

Aleksander shrugged, "I didn't notice."

Matthias' grinned again as he made his way back to the fire, "Of course you didn't, you were sleeping like a baby." He paused as he filled both the bowls with the chowder, finally coming back to him and handing one over, "Or, actually you weren't sleeping like a baby, of you were, you'd be screaming and crying and shitting yourself every few hours or so. So, thanks for sleeping quietly."

"You're welcome?" Aleksander said, his statement sounding like a question. Shaking his thoughts out of his head, he took the bowl, "Thanks for cooking."

Matthias waved dismissively as he sat down next to him and began eating. "So, uh, what's the plan for today?" Aleksander asked, taking a bite of the chowder and making a sound of approval.

Matthias swallowed and cleared his throat, "Well, we have to sell your clothes and get ones more fitting for a traveler. So, after this, you can change into some of mine."

Aleksander narrowed his eyebrows, "I can't just wear you clothes."

"Better than stripping at the vender." Matthias countered, "Besides, you won't be in them for very long. If we get moving soon, we'll be in Redwood before you know it."

And, so, he ate and changed into Matthias' clothes after going into the trees so he could. The apparel that the traveler gave him were loose and baggy, to the point that he had to hold his trousers up so they wouldn't fall down. After changing, Aleksander walked out of the trees, "How's this?"

Matthias stopped packing up camp to look over, and laughed. So hard that Aleksader could feel his cheeks burning, "This isn't funny!" He snapped.

Matthias' laughter winded down, "Yes it is, and it will be until I loan you a belt." He then went to a different bag, pulled out a belt, and tossed it at him, still giggling, "There you go."

Aleksander caught the belt and made his way back to the trees to fix his trousers. After he was as comfortable as he could be in the other man's clothing, he helped pack up the rest of the camp and they headed to Redwood.

Matthias was right, the ride wasn't very long, and for a while, Aleksander knew they were close because they would come across someone else heading in the opposite direction. Matthias greeted the few that they crossed. Some responded back, but most ignored him. Something told Aleksander that he should say 'hello' too, but somehow, he didn't feel like it was his place.

Redwood was overwhelming to say the least. The environment was loud, distracting, and unorganized, but Matthias lead them on their horses unfazed, whistling the whole way. They eventually came to an inn, bought themselves a room for later, and a place for their horses in the stalls. It went well until Aleksander realized that they would be sharing said room. With one bed. However, when he brought this up, Matthias just said: " _Of course, I'm not made of money."_

And now Matthias was rambling idly about what it would be like if he was made of money. He wouldn't have to go to an inn to sleep, he would have a house in every village in the country, complete with stalls and one horse for each, or actually two horses, because he's made of money and why not? And blah, blah blah, blah blah… Aleksander got distracted by everything that they walked by, so it's not like Matthias' words held his attention anyway.

"Hey, Lukas, are you listening?"

Aleksander looked to the traveler, "Uhh…"

"GET BACK HERE!"

Aleksander turned to see a man holding a chicken in each arm while chasing a third one. He could only wonder how the man got into that predicament, or why he was carrying three chickens, or how the other chicken got away… Where they even _his_ chickens?

"Lukas," Aleksander felt Matthias grab his chin and turn his head back over, "Focus. Selling your clothes isn't the only thing on my 'to-do' list. I need to find a blacksmith too."

"Why?"

Both Aleksander and Matthias looked over to a man standing not too far away, "None of your business, creep!" Matthias snapped, "Back off!" After the man shrugged and walked away, he looked back to Aleksander, acting as if nothing had happened, "I need to buy some leather. One of my bags needs a patch-up."

"My stomach hurts." Aleksander said in honesty, still staring at the person who interrupted their conversation. Was he- Yes, he was throwing up in a bush.

"Hey, the poor man's drunk, give him a break." Before Aleksander could bring up the fact that it was currently eight-thirty in the morning, Matthias continued, "So, sell your clothes, then get some leather. Got it?"

Forcing himself to get back on the topic, Aleksander asked, "How do we sell my clothes?"

Matthias shrugged, "There should be a vendor around here somewhere. I'm not that familiar with Redwood, so I'll have to wander around to find it. Which is okay, I don't mind doing that, my whole life consists of wandering. Now, what about your hair clip?"

Aleksander narrowed his eyebrows, "What about it?"

"It's pretty expensive," The traveler explained, "You should probably sell it."

"It stays." He insisted.

Matthias stared it him for a while, as if he were waiting for Aleksander to continue, but finally, he rolled his eyes, "Alright, whatever, you don't have to get all serious on me. Let's go."

Matthias began to lead him through the streets. As they got deeper to the center of the village, however, it got more and more crowded. People were walking by him way too close for comfort, some others were ringing bells, and others were shouting about what they were selling and their prices. Taking in his surroundings and keeping up with Matthias was more of a difficult task that what he originally thought.

Then, out of nowhere, a kid ran straight into him, the boy's head shoving just under his sternum. All the air in Aleksanders lungs left him all at once, leaving him bent over, coughing. The kid mumbled an apology, but ran off before Aleksander could even respond. After catching his breath, he straightened himself only to find that he had lost Matthias.

Aleksander looked around desperately, even getting up on his toes for extra height, and as his luck would have it, the traveler was nowhere in sight.

Well, this was just great.

 _Don't panic,_ He told himself when his chest felt empty. He took a deep breath and looked around, trying to find something to inspire him about what to do. Eventually, he decided to just keep walking. After all, he and Matthias were heading in this direction, perhaps he would run into him.

While keeping an eye out for Matthias, Aleksander realized that the streets were less hectic than before. Sure, it was loud, and there were a lot of people, but everyone was talking, smiling, and seemed to be in a good mood. It was strange, to say the least, to see so much expression on people's faces. Because, where he grew up, in the land of plagiarism and criticism, politics was a poker game. The only expressions you held were confidence after you say something, or remorse after a tragedy. That's it.

Perhaps he shouldn't be regretting being out here with real people, where everyone isn't so apt to lie and cheat you like they will in the political world. Maybe he should be grateful for being able to temporarily live a simpler life than that.

That's when he saw a crazy man running for his life, slip on horse shit, and land face first in a horse trough. The regret was back, and Aleksander had to admit, he kind of missed it.

Aleksander sighed and looked away, hoping to forget what had just happened. In a strange turn of events, he was lucky enough to see a building right next to him that had a sign with a hammer on it. It read _Blacksmith._ He headed straight for it, already feeling thankful again. But, unfortunately, he walked in while an argument was going on.

The man behind the desk -the owner most likely- Seemed to walk away from where he was standing to converse with someone else, a weird looking man with grey hair and red eyes. There was another, taller, young man with him, but unlike his friend, he was not albino. The owner held a furious expression as he looked down and began organizing something on his desk, trying to give off the feeling that he was done with whatever the two young men were there for.

The albino, however, wouldn't have that. He rounded the desk, trying to make eye contact again, a pleading look taking his features, "But, _Vater_ , you have to-"

The owner interrupted him, "I don't have to do anything for you!" He snapped, stopping what he was doing to glare at him, "You know I don't believe in what you do."

"Two swords." The Albino begged, "Just two swords, and I'll get out of your long hair."

"I'm not just going to throw you two swords, just so you leave!" The owner exclaimed, "I am not wasting my work on _you_ , let alone your mission."

Albino's expression changed to a heartbroken, almost unbelieving stare, " _Vater,_ I-"

"Get out!" The owner growled.

"I'm your son!"

The owner slammed his fist on the table, making everything on it jump, "I only have one son, and he's at the palace in the capital protecting royalty!"

There was a long pause before the Albino shook his head with a scoff, "Come on, Matt." He mumbled, storming out, and slamming the door.

The young man, Matt, looked from the owner, to Aleksander, his eyes widening slightly. After a few awkward moments of Matt staring at him, he looked back at the owner with a respectful nod, "Have a nice day." He practically squeaked before hurrying after his friend out the door.

The owner looked at the desk for a long moment before lifting his head, "I'm sorry about all that." He said calmly, "What can I do for you?"

"It's fine." Aleksander said quickly, "I'm just waiting for someone."

The owner rolled his eyes, "Well, go stand around outside. If you're not here for business, then I don't want you here."

"Well, um…" Aleksander started, his voice trailing off as he tried to find words to explain, "My friend needs something from you, but I lost him in the crowd, so I'm meeting him here."

The owner bent down and started digging through a drawer, "Then meet him outside."

Aleksander was about to argue when the door opened. "Oh, there you are." Matthias said as he walked in, "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Aleksander glanced over to the owner, who seemed to be eyeing Matthias. Brushing it off as it only being strange to him, Aleksander turned his attention back to the traveler, "I could say the same about you."

Matthias only shrugged and handed him a bag of coins, "This is your change from the sale on your clothes."

Aleksander took it and peered into the bag, "Thank you."

Aleksander put the bag away as Matthias approached the desk, tossing his own bag of money onto the counter, "I would like some leather, please."

The owner blinked at him, "I don't sell to southerners."

That caught Aleksander's attention easily. More because he didn't understand why. They were all a part of Scandinavia, right? What did it matter? As Aleksander stood there confused, Matthias' shoulders slouched, "You have to be joking."

The owner shook his head, "Wish I was."

"But-but," Matthias said, stumbling over his words as he became angry, "But you're Germanic! Even further south than where I'm from!"

"And if I was still in Germania," The owner began, "The I would still tell you that I don't sell to Southern Scandinavians."

Before Matthias could really lose his temper, Aleksander stepped in, "Do you sell to Westerners?" He asked, "I'm from the west, the capital even."

"You're with him." The owner pointed out, "Now go away and leave me in peace."

"You can't just refuse to sell leather to him because his southern." Aleksander stated firmly, "That's wrong."

"No?" The owner started, "I don't care, kid. Now get out before I get the guards."

Before he could protest again, Matthias scoffed and headed out the door, "Come on, Lukas. We can just go to the next town."

With one more glare to the owner, Aleksander followed, waiting to get back on the street before his spoke again, "Don't take it personally, Matthias."

Matthias nodded and rolled his eyes, "And why wouldn't I?"

Aleksander narrowed his eyebrows together, the scene from before still confusing him, "He refused bussiness to two other men." He stated, "An albino who the owner said that he didn't believe in his cause."

Matthias looked at him with a curious expression, "What cause?"

Aleksander shrugged, "I don't know. They never really said."

The traveler gave a thoughtful look, "Huh, maybe he's an asshole to everyone."

He sounded reassured somehow, almost as if knowing that he wasn't the only one who had a bad day with the blacksmith made him feel better. It did pose a few questions though. None of it really made sense. Why would anyone refuse business with Matthias anyway? And not for being a criminal, or anything of that sort, but for being southern. It seemed insignificant. Aleksander would say that it was just an old man with a grudge, but Matthias acted like this had happened before.

Then he remembered Yao's history lessons. Scandinavia has had many rough patches in his history, mainly civil wars, but the last war wasn't even really a war, but more of blame game over an economic depression, and that was long before his grandfather's time. Everyone who witnessed has been dead for at least one hundred years.

But wasn't that what he was here for? To learn what society is like and figure out why so he can fix it when he's king? He had to take a moment to let that sink in. He wasn't just here to see what life was like, but he was here to learn where the problems were, and begin to plan how to correct and improve the empire.

Well, if that was the case, then he had some questions to ask Matthias.

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry this took so freaking long, but I had some writer's block, then when I figured it out, classes and work got in the way. Anywho, you'll see Eiríkur in the next chapter!


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